


Talk Me Down

by inaweoftheirvoices



Category: GOT7
Genre: (just a lil), Angst, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, i just wanted an excuse to make them have a Dramatic kiss, idk man this is just.....a thing, jackson is working too much and mark is super angsty, super self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6343780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inaweoftheirvoices/pseuds/inaweoftheirvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark has grown accustomed to telling the difference between the persona Jackson plays and the bits and pieces of the real person stitched into it. It’s a language not a lot of people speak, and he knows that’s how Jackson prefers it, so he never told anyone what he’s worried about. But the thing is – he’s not sure how much more of this Jackson can take. And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep watching it happen, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> this is for cortney, my bro and partner in combat <3

The thing is, when they finished their last comeback, they were told there would be a few weeks just to rest, this time around. It’s not like they don’t love what they do, that couldn’t be further from the truth. They’ve been working so hard to get to where they are now, and Mark knows none of them would trade it for the world, even if it means not knowing what it feels like to get enough sleep in favour of working 14 hours a day. They’re constantly rehearsing, working on their choreography, performing, giving interviews, and lately even writing and producing. It fills them with pride, to know people trust them enough to take over now. It’s the only thing they ever want to do.

But at the end of the day, they’re still only human. They need rest, a few days just to shut themselves away from all the pressure and expectations, and the constant buzz going on around them. Their team tries to make it bearable for them, but there’s only so much that can be done at this point. It’s just the price they have to pay, Mark _knows_ that. He just wishes it could be different sometimes.

The stress always hits Jackson the hardest, mainly because he finds it so hard to say no to people. Especially when what they tell him boils down to ‘do it for the other members’ – or at least, that’s what Jackson hears, whether people say it or not.

****

They’re making Jackson appear on some kind of game show, which means that for a little while, the others see even less of him than usual, and then he’s home for two days straight. They haven’t talked yet, not really, but Mark is so relieved he swears it’s physically easier to breathe, just knowing Jackson is locked away in their room sleeping.

“So when is this going to air, then?” Mark asks after flopping down on the couch next to Yugyeom. He tries to steal some popcorn from the bowl on his lap but the younger boy swats his hand away.

“Jinyoung, the baby is misbehaving again,” he calls lazily, and grins to himself when it makes both Yugyeom and Jinyoung groan.

“Handle it yourself, Mark, you’re old enough!” Jinyoung yells back from the kitchen.

Yugyeom throws Mark an annoyed look before finally answering. “It airs tonight, that’s what Jackson said.”

Mark frowns. “He told you?”

“He told Jaebum,” Yugyeom replies, clearly confused by the question.

“Awwwww, is Markie jealous?” Jinyoung croons loudly.

It cuts deeper than Mark wants to admit. He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible as his mind races. He’s been exhausted, miserable even, and it was easy to blame that on their schedule these past few weeks, but now that they have the weekend off it’s harder to ignore that it’s not just that. It’s Jackson. For the first time in ages, Mark doesn’t have to worry about him, even if it’s just for a couple of days, and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest.

Of course, the others have been worrying, too, but they don’t seem half as affected. Their general stance seems to be that Jackson is an adult, and he’ll ask for help when he needs it. It’s not that easy for Mark to shut off the part of his brain that’s constantly focusing on Jackson; where he is, how much sleep he gets, if he’s eating enough.

It hits Mark suddenly – Jinyoung is right. He’s jealous.

He wants Jackson to come to _him_ to talk, to tell _him_ about what’s going on in his life. He wants to be the first person Jackson tells things. He wants Jackson to care about Mark as much as Mark cares about him. And it’s like, they’ve always been close, even within the tight circle of the group, but this feels different. It feels bigger. It’s like Mark’s mood are directly tied to Jackson’s well-being, and an irrational, crazed part of him wants Jackson to feel the same about him. Mark doesn’t usually let his mind go there, because he knows it can’t normal. It’s not how you’re supposed to feel about a friend.

But really, looking back, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Mark’s heart sinks even further, past the knots in his stomach and right out of his body. These feelings aren’t new, not exactly. It was a gradual progression, but they were always there. Right from the very first time Jackson smiled at him like he was the sun, and not the downer Mark knows he can be. Being close to Jackson made him feel like there was more to him than what people saw, like he was _important_ , and after being his friend for so long, it’s become akin to a drug for Mark. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but he knows he wants more of it. He wants more than what they have.

_Fuck._

Just as that thought starts to get its’ teeth into him, something hits the side of his face.

“Markie Mark,” Yugyeom sing-songs and throws another piece of popcorn at him. “You’re daydreaming again.”

One of these days, someone will have to talk some manners into that boy. As if he’s read Mark’s mind, Jinyoung pops his head through the door. “Leave him alone, you menace,” he says, but the fond smile on his face softens the bite. He turns more serious when he sees the look on Mark’s face. “You’re looking a bit grey, Mark, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Jinyoung’s frown deepens. He’s about to say something when the front door opens behind him and a screaming Bambam jumps onto his back, followed by a laughing Youngjae. Mark knows an opportunity to escape when he sees one, so he gets up and squeezes past them while Jinyoung is distracted.

He isn’t sure why, it doesn’t make any sense, but he’s overcome with the need to see Jackson. A tiny fraction of his brain is still convinced it’s not true, and all it will take is one look at Jackson’s face to get everything back to normal, so that’s what Mark does. He goes to their room, heart beating ridiculously fast, all the way up to his neck, and his stomach viciously churning. It’s laughable how nervous he is. He’s known Jackson for so long, Mark can’t think of anyone he feels safer with.

Seeing Jackson sleeping is as anti-climactic as it is unsettling. He’s not wearing make-up, so his face looks fresh and shiny, and so much more relaxed than when Jackson is awake. His laugh lines are still visible, though, around his eyes and next to his open mouth.

The thing that fucks Mark up is that there’s no explosions or fireworks or huge revelation – he feels the same way he always does when he looks at Jackson. The only difference is that Jackson is asleep, which gives him time to think about _what exactly it is_ that he’s feeling. The first things that come to mind are warmth and comfort. He can see the way Jackson would smile at him if he woke him up, all sleepy and only half-awake, but Mark wouldn’t dare, is the thing. Seeing Jackson like this, open and uninhibited, makes him want to keep him in this room forever, where no one can make him feel bad, yell at him to work harder, or keep him from resting – or keep him away from Mark.

It’s been like this for so long, Mark didn’t even realize his feelings for Jackson weren’t purely platonic. There was no turning point, no sudden change of heart. It’s always been there, right underneath his skin.

He feels sick.

****

They gather to watch the game show together that evening. Jackson hasn’t left his room, and Mark hates himself a little bit for it, but he’s glad Jackson isn’t there. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look him in the eye, or even worse, talk to him. At some point he’s going to have to, obviously, Mark isn’t stupid, but he needs some time to prepare himself.

He’s sandwiched between Jaebum and Youngjae, with Bambam sitting in the floor in front of him. It’s only ten minutes in and the room is already too hot, with six people crammed into it, but right now it’s exactly what Mark needs. They’re anchoring him; if it wasn’t for the thighs pressed into his and Bambam’s back leaning against his shins, Mark is pretty sure he’d float away, or maybe disintegrate into thin air. His chest is so full, and his head so empty. He distantly wonders if this is what the beginning of a panic attack feels like.

Jinyoung keeps throwing him glances from the other end of the couch, but Mark stubbornly refuses to look at him. Maybe if he pretends nothing is wrong long enough, it’ll become true.

Out of nowhere, Youngjae is yelling, right next to Mark’s ear, and it jerks him out of his head. Jackson is doing flips on the screen, which is probably why the rest of the boys are laughing. Mark has missed half of the program already.

Jesus Christ. He really is out of it today.

He’s about to excuse himself to try to get his head right, when Jaebum makes a strange noise and the members fall silent very abruptly. Mark looks up at the TV just in time to see Jackson lying on the floor, one of his arms twisted under his body. He quickly turns his head so the audience can’t see his face any more, but it’s too late. Mark has already seen the way Jackson’s eyes were screwed shut in pain.

The camera pans out to show the other contestants’ reactions, some of them clearly worried, but a lot of them laughing as well, as if this is all part of the show. It makes something in Mark’s chest shatter, but he can’t bring himself to look away. He has to keep watching for signs that Jackson is okay, even though that’s pointless, he _knows_ Jackson is okay, he’s sleeping right down the hall, but – the look on his face when he turned his face was so unhinged, Mark could swear his heart physically broke in half.

When they show Jackson again, he’s smiling and laughing along with the others, who are _still_ pointing at him, as if it’s funny to them somehow. But Mark can see that he’s holding his arm very still, as close to his body as possible. It’s obvious it still hurts, even though Jackson doesn’t say anything, not even when the host of the program pats his shoulder playfully.

 _“A career in the circus isn’t in the cards for you, I’m afraid,”_ the host says and the contestants laugh.

 _“Maybe you should just stick to singing,”_ one of them adds. _“Oh, wait, you don’t sing, do you? You_ rap. _”_

Mark can feel his blood boiling. He’s so furious he doesn’t even hear what the others are saying from that point on; all he can focus on is Jackson. After his fall he’s uncharacteristically quiet, almost melts into the background, so they don’t show him as often. But every time his face is on the screen, his grin has grown more and more strained, until it looks like it’s been carved into his skin. Not once does he let it slip off his face. It might have convinced the other people on the show, but Mark knows Jackson. He knows.

“Why didn’t he tell us he fell?” Yugyeom asks after a while and breaks the silence that has fallen over the room.

“Maybe he was embarrassed,” Bambam pipes up, craning his head to look up at him.

Mark has to stop himself from lashing out at them. It’s not their fault, they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that he feels crazy with anger, and talking about it without Jackson here is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“I’m gonna check on him,” Mark says, quietly so only Jaebum hears, and their leader looks like he wants to say something, but then decides to just nod.

****

Mark expects Jackson to still be sleeping, so he opens the door to their room carefully without knocking, only to find Jackson sitting on his bed with his phone in hand, wide awake.

“Oh, hey,” Jackson greets him. “I thought you were watching the game show.”

“I was.”

Jackson frowns. “Was it that boring?”

Mark doesn’t know where to begin, so for a few moments he just stands at the door gripping the door-knob. The anger is still there, burning red hot behind his ribs, but it feels misplaced now. There’s no one in the room he could be angry at. Jackson looks – disappointed, almost, like he seriously thinks that Mark wasn’t entertained enough by his performance to keep watching. Mark has no idea what to do with that.

“You fell.”

He sees Jackson’s face fall before he can catch himself. “Yeah. Wasn’t sure if they’d cut that out.”

“Well, they didn’t.”

Jackson sniffs and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“For _what?_ ”

“Didn’t really shine the best light on me, did it? On us.”

Mark is going to punch something. Jackson actually fucking believes that he’s the one at fault here, after almost breaking his arm doing flips, probably after specifically being told to do so. It’s unbelievable. And he still won’t look at Mark, as if he’s scared Mark will get angry at him, or maybe laugh and point at him, too.

“Who cares about what those people think? They were assholes!”

“Assholes with a lot of influence.”

“We’re not rookies anymore, we don’t need everyone’s approval! Especially not from them! You seriously hurt yourself and they all just _laughed_ –”

“No need to remind me, Mark,” Jackson says sharply. “I was there.”

It’s quiet for a bit. There’s so many things Mark wants to say, _needs_ Jackson to hear, but he doesn’t know how. He can’t find the words.

“My arm is fine, nothing happened,” Jackson adds in a more civil tone when Mark doesn’t fire back. “It was just – it’s just so fucking typical, isn’t it?” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Another scoff. Jackson’s entire body is clamped up, from his crossed arms to the nervous shaking of his feet. It looks like he’s on the verge of something, and Mark has no idea what it is.

“Why do you always do this to yourself, Jackson?”

Jackson goes directly into defence-mode. “What is it that am I doing?”

“You always beat yourself up for things you can’t control, or things you had nothing to do with! It’s not healthy.”

“What was I supposed to do? Huh? How am I supposed to act in this situation?”

Mark fumbles to find the right words to say. No matter what he does, Jackson doesn’t _get_ it. “All I’m saying is you have a tendency of selling yourself too short, and I think that’s what you’re doing right now.”

“Oh, perfect,” Jackson bites, his eyes blazing up with sudden anger. “By all means, please tell me what I’m doing wrong, that’s exactly what I need right now!”

And just like that, he gets up off the bed and rushes past Mark, out of the room. There’s no time for Mark to reply, not that he could, with his feet rooted to the ground and his mouth hanging open uselessly. Jackson never snaps at people, not like this – not at _him_. Mark feels sick with the thought of letting it end like this, the exact opposite of what he was trying to do. He was supposed to comfort Jackson, make him feel better about what happened, and instead he just upset him even more.

****

They don’t talk about it.

Things go back to normal – normal meaning Jackson falling into bed at 2 in the morning and getting up before everybody else, and Mark worrying himself sick. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t dare bring it up again in case it leads to another fight. Part of him thinks that he shouldn’t add to Jackson’s stress and just try to support him and tell him how proud he is, which he _is_. He knows how hard Jackson works for the group, for all of them; it’s one of the things they admire most about him. But another part of Mark wishes Jackson wasn’t so quick to sacrifice his own health for the benefit of the others.

He can’t tell him that, though. That much Jackson has made clear.

So Mark stays silent and watches, always watches, as Jackson’s smile gets smaller and the bags under his eyes darker and harder to conceal. Seeing his face has become such a rarity these days that it’s a shock whenever Mark stays up late enough to catch Jackson walking around the dorm. The changes seem even more obvious that way, and it makes him wonder why nobody else has noticed anything.

Although, it’s not like he isn’t used to standing at the edge of the group and being the only one who notices certain things; like the way Jackson smiles fondly at the maknae line when they aren’t looking, even after teasing them brutally just twenty seconds before, or how he preens at every bit of attention he gets from his hyungs, as much as he likes pretending it’s all just and act for the camera. Mark has grown accustomed to telling the difference between the persona Jackson plays and the bits and pieces of the real person stitched into it. It’s a language not a lot of people speak, and he knows that’s how Jackson prefers it, so he never told anyone what he’s worried about. But the thing is – he’s not sure how much more of this Jackson can take. And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep watching it happen, either.

****

It turns out Mark doesn’t have to do any talking this time. Usually it’s him who takes the first step after a fight; Jackson can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, and his reaction was so extreme that Mark expected Jackson to give him the cold shoulder for at least a week.

Just a few days after their fight, Jackson finds Mark in their room after the others have gone out for lunch. Jaebum was adamant about having both of them come with, but Mark didn’t give in. He isn’t feeling up for it. He isn’t really feeling up for much at all these days.

Mark can feel his face fall when Jackson enters the room, and he looks back down at his phone immediately, prepared to let Jackson pretend he isn’t there. That’s not what Jackson does, though. There’s a dip in the mattress and then he’s being pulled into a hug. Jackson buries his face into his sweater, his breath hot even through the thick fabric, and Mark swears his heart gives out.

As soon as Jackson realizes he’s not going to be pushed off, he moves so he’s sitting behind him to make it a real hug, his hands flexing on Mark’s rigid shoulders. Every touch coaxes the tension out of him a little more, and Mark can’t even stop it. Jackson gives his all into every single hug, in a way that makes Mark feel bare and frail, sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson whispers. “You don’t deserve to be snapped at. You’re just looking out for me, I know that.”

“I am,” Mark says, his voice small.

“Yeah.” He can hear Jackson’s smile in the way he says it, right next to Mark’s ear, and it’s too warm in their room to pretend the shivers come from the cold. “You always are.”

Jackson’s hold on him tightens and Mark finds himself reaching up to keep Jackson’s arms around him in place. He’s not ready to look Jackson in the eyes yet.

“Can we talk tomorrow? I’m tired,” Jackson says.

“Of course.”

They stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in a position that can’t possibly be comfortable for Jackson. He’s crouched on his heels with Mark between his knees, and both arms wrapped tightly around Mark’s chest. After a while of this, Jackson starts swaying, like he’s too tired to hold himself upright, but never once does he make a move to let go. This is a side of him Mark only gets to see when it’s just the two of them, and he knows it’s a privilege. It makes something warm and bright bloom in Mark’s chest, makes him feel safe and cared for. He lets his eyes slip closed, and lets himself pretend that what he feels has a future, just this once.

****

It’s still dark when he wakes up, which is probably why Jackson trips over a pair of shoes. He curses, then freezes, his silhouette clearly visible against the bright white of the opposite wall.

“What–” Mark mutters nonsensically.

“Sorry,” Jackson whispers back with a wince.

Mark sits up, instantly wide awake. “Where are you going? You don’t have promo today.”

There’s a pause. He squints to make out what Jackson is doing, but he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“I’m not going anywhere. Just needed the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Mark says stupidly. He’s too tired to think of something to say beyond _thank god_ and _please stay_ , and he figures neither of those would help his cause, so instead he just lies back down and pretends he’s going back to sleep. “Okay.”

He listens as Jackson closes the door behind himself and sneaks down the hall, the soft sounds of his bare feet getting fainter. Mark stays in bed for another three seconds, then sighs and sits up again. There’s no point. He’s awake for good.

By the time Jackson comes back into the room, Mark has already opened the blinds and is sitting on the edge of his bed.

“So I assume you wanna talk then?” Jackson jokes, the end of sentence lost to a yawn.

“I can’t sleep,” Mark replies truthfully. Jackson sighs.

“Me neither.”

“I just–I needed to tell you that…I was never trying to patronize you, or make any decisions for you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Listen–” Jackson sighs. He looks deeply uncomfortable. “That’s not it. When…when you said all that stuff, the way you said it, like – it made me feel like you didn’t think I could do it. Like maybe that…that guy was right.”

There’s a lot of things Jackson doesn’t say, but Mark can hear them loud and clear. He isn’t good at putting his thoughts into words, he never has been, especially not in situations like this, but he needs to make every word count right now. Jackson rarely lets his guard down like this, and when he does, it’s incredibly easy to hurt him. That’s the last thing Mark wants to do.

Mark takes a deep breath, and then another one, until he feels his heartrate slow down.

“I know you can do it, Jackson. That was never the problem. I just–”

He finds himself trailing off; the way Jackson is looking at him is making it hard to concentrate. It seems like he’s trying hard to keep his walls up, to not let whatever Mark is about to say get to him, and it _hurts_. It hurts to think that Jackson feels like he needs to do that around Mark.

Everything he was planning on saying feels hollow now. It’s going to sound empty to Jackson, no matter how much Mark means it, and it’s going to make it worse, if anything. So Mark decides to just be honest, just this once, as terrifying as it is.

“You’re just as important as the rest of us.”

For a second he isn’t sure if Jackson even heard it. Part of him hopes he didn’t.

“What?”

“You’re working all day, every day of the week. I can hear you come in, you know? I know how long you’re gone, and I can see how tired you are. It _hurts_ to see you like this. I don’t worry about you because I don’t think you’re capable, I worry because you seem to think you’re not good enough. And you _are_ , Jackson!”

It’s quiet for a long time after that.

“You don’t–” Jackson breaks off, and when he speaks again his voice is so small and weak it breaks Mark’s heart. “Promise me you’re not just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

“I promise,” Mark says immediately. It’s the truth.

He doesn’t know what kind of reply he expected from Jackson, but it’s not silence. For a while he just stands there watching Mark, before slowly moving to sit down on the edge of his bed. When Jackson speaks again, it sounds defeated. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Let someone else take over promo.”

“Mark, how do you expect me to–” Jackson groans and covers his face with both hands. “Even if I wanted to – I can’t just tell them I want to stop! I signed a contract, you know that!”

“Can’t you talk to your manager?”

“What, like a child running to his mummy?” Jackson rolls his eyes, like it’s completely out of the question. It’s so unlike him to be purposefully mean. Mark absolutely _hates_ it.

“I’m not going to watch you do this to yourself any longer, so if you don’t talk to him, I will.”

“You can’t just–”

“Jackson, you don’t get a say in this! I’m your elder, it’s my job to take care of you! So for once in your life, please just sit back and let someone else help you!”

It’s impossible to read Jackson’s expression. He’s taken a few steps back, one of his hands still gripping his own hair, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. From what Mark can see, there’s no movement to his face. It’s frightening. Mark feels laid open, like he’s said too much. Like maybe Jackson _knows_ now. He’s aware, rationally, that that’s not possible, he’s just being paranoid, there’s no way Jackson can read his mind, but still–

“Anyway,” Mark says and clears his throat. Real subtle. “It’s late. You need sleep.”

“I have the day off tomorrow,” says Jackson, but it sounds like he’s just protesting out of principle. Mark tries his hardest not to read too much into the way he’s still staring at him.

“Which means you have loads of time to catch up on sleep.”

He swears he can see Jackson’s lips twitch then, but it’s too dark to be sure. “Right.”

They don’t talk as they take turns changing and brushing their teeth, and the air between them feels charged. Not in the same way it did after their fight, and Mark is grateful for that, but it still feels like there’s something that hasn’t been said yet. The two of them get into their respective beds, only two meters apart, and Mark turns off the light, and then it’s completely quiet.

Mark is about to drift off when Jackson’s voice makes him jerk out of it. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

Mark frowns and turns so he’s facing him. “I promise.”

There’s a pause, and then Jackson asks, sounding so small Mark barely catches it: “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Mark can’t help the way his breath hitches. That wasn’t what he expected Jackson to ask.

He can’t deny how much he wants to say yes, how much he’s wanted this, but just acknowledging that thought makes Mark sick with himself. Jackson doesn’t mean it in the way Mark does, he doesn’t know what Mark is thinking. He’d probably feel exploited if he did.

He knows he’s going to regret this, but he also knows he can’t reject Jackson, not right now, not when he’s this vulnerable. So Mark pushes his feelings as far into the back of his mind as he can and shuffles back until his back hits the wall. “Get in.”

And then Jackson is tip-toeing across the room and climbing into his bed. When he settles, none of their limbs are touching, and there’s a considerable amount of space between their faces, but Mark feels a hot flush wander go down his body. They haven’t done this in ages.

The last time Jackson slept in his bed, they were brand new to all of this, their new lives and promising futures were thrilling and absolutely terrifying, and that was enough of an excuse to share a bed. Neither of them thought much of how close they were, they weren’t under the same level of scrutiny yet. Now, it’s different. It feels dangerous, lying across from Jackson and staring at his face in the dark. Knowing he could reach out and touch Jackson, just like that.

Mark has to swallow to get rid of all the spit in his mouth. He wishes knew what Jackson is thinking.

After a long stretch of silence, he gets his answer. “Why do you care so much?” Jackson whispers, and Mark’s entire body lights up with nerves. He knows he should at least try to deflect, maybe laugh it off, but somehow he doesn’t have it in him tonight not to be honest.

“How could I not?”

There’s some rustling as Jackson shuffles around to comfortably rest his head, and the movement gets them even closer. “You’re a good friend.”

Mark has no idea what possesses him then. Maybe it’s the dark, it’s always easier to confess things when nobody can see you, or maybe it’s the fact that they’re so close. The heat radiating off Jackson’s body is making his head swim. “It’s more than that.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Mark squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face into the duvet.

It’s silent for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it can’t be more than a few seconds. Jackson clears his throat. “What are you saying?”

“I like you so much,” Mark rushes out. His face is burning already, and he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t keep it bottled up any longer, he just can’t. Now that he’s started, it’s like the floodgates have been opened. There’s no way for him to keep the words back. “I have for a while now.”

“Mark,” Jackson breathes out, his voice high in his surprise. He is moving his hand suddenly, and in his panic Mark thinks he’s going to – he doesn’t even know, hit him? But all Jackson does is pry Mark’s hand from where it’s clutched against his chest and lace their fingers together.

“You can say no,” Jackson whispers, and his voice is wavering. They’re so close that Mark can feel his breath on his face. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Whatever Mark was going to say dies on his tongue. He closes his eyes.

He’s never really let himself imagine what it would be like to kiss Jackson. It turns out, when it comes down to it, it’s just a kiss. There’s nothing scary about it. Jackson’s lips are warm and soft. He isn’t applying much pressure, but even this much makes Mark’s chest open up, his heart jumping against his ribs, and it gets even better when he tilts his head to make it a real kiss. It’s like all the anxiety and tension that’s been building up over the past few weeks bleeds out of Mark’s body all at once. He doesn’t understand why he never let himself have this before. It seems incredibly daft now.

It doesn’t last long; after a few short seconds, the kiss comes to an end. Jackson’s head falls back onto the pillow. Mark’s face feels cold for just a second, and then there’s a different touch, a hand caressing his cheek.

“I never thought–” Jackson’s voice breaks and he falls silent.

Mark can relate. Words are too much right now, his head swimming in things he wants to say but can’t articulate, and talking seems like a waste of time anyway, now that he knows he can have this. He leans back in, smiling at the pleased noise Jackson makes. For a while, there isn’t any sound apart from the rustling of sheets and Mark’s own heartbeat in his ears. All that matters is the heavy, slow drag of their lips and the sound of Jackson’s breathing picking up, matching his own. Nothing exists outside of the two of them.

****

When he wakes up for the second time, Mark is confused as to why it’s so hot in his bed; then he opens his eyes to see a head of bleached, bright blond hair and he remembers. He couldn’t stop the laugh that breaks out of him if he tried. Nothing is funny, he’s just so genuinely happy – it feels like there was a physical weight pulling him down for the last weeks, and he only notices now that it’s gone. He swears he could fly away with the lightness of it.

The sudden noise makes Jackson stirs in his sleep, but then just mumbles something and cuddles closer to Mark, brushing his fingers across Mark’s ribs under his shirt in the process. It makes goose bumps break out everywhere.

There is a moment where Mark wants to poke Jackson and wake him up, just to see that same happiness reflected back at him, but he decides to let Jackson catch as much sleep as he can.

(The blush on Jackson’s cheeks when he does wake up is totally worth it.)


End file.
